To everyone: Thanks for the reviews!
Chapter 11
Jack
I wasn’t particularly worried about Grace and my daughter. She was still in mourning, and, if what I had read in his file was the truth, Grace wasn’t planning on getting to heavily involved with another woman anytime soon.
I was worried as a father, but not as a person.
I was a little more worried about Sloane. I did not trust that man as far as I could throw him. Ever since he started to work for APO again, about three weeks ago, I was feeling more and more uncomfortable.
I knew that Sloane would have done anything to help his daughter.
I was just wondering what devil he made the deal with to get him out of prison.
And to get him back at APO.
Mostly I was wondering what this person expected in return.
I logged onto my computer and checked my e-mail. Almost all of them were work related stuff, but there was one from Sydney.
It read:
Dad,
This Saturday is Rachel’s twenty-third birthday. I wanted to throw her a party at my house, about six. Marshall and his family, Dixon and his family, Director Chase, Tom and you are invited. I was wondering if you could bring a salad of some kind, we have everything else covered. You don’t have to bring a gift.
Sydney
P.S. This is a SURPRISE. Please don’t say anything to Rachel.
I saved the e-mail in the folder where I put all my correspondence with Sydney and sighed, rubbing my head.
On one hand, I didn’t want to go. I was never one for parties.
On the other, I knew that Sydney inviting me was a big step. I would also get to see my grandson, who, despite my best efforts, I didn’t see as much as I would like to.
I responded:
Sydney,
I would love to come. I’ll be there at six with a salad.
Dad
Sydney
I spent the day, with Carrie, decorating my house for the party. Carrie brought Mitchell, and he and Ben amused each other. Both boys laughed and screamed from the play pen, while Carrie and I hung up streamers.
“How old is he?” Carrie asked.
“Nine months.”
“How are you doing?” She stopped hanging the streamers, and looked hard at me.
I shrugged, “I don’t know. Some days are better than others. Ben is keeping me sane, I still think I need to go back to work soon. Can you recommend a nanny?”
“I think we should look together. I wanted to go back to the CIA. Analyst stuff, I was going to ask Marshall to get me a job at APO.”
I almost fell over in shock, but managed to compose myself, “APO? I thought the name of Marshall’s company was-”
She waved me off, “Give me a break, Syd. You know how bad Marshall is about lying. Those late nights helping “Bob”, I picked up the phone one time, and your voice was on the other end. I’m not an idiot.”
“Does Marshall know?”
“No, and I prefer to keep it that way for now. Back to you.”
I sighed, “Carrie, please.”
“I just have one question, then I’ll leave you alone.”
“What?”
“Is there anyone?”
I sighed again, “It’s still too early, Carrie. I…I couldn’t.”
Thomas
I arrived at Sydney’s house at about five-thirty. A short, dark-haired woman with laugh lines answered the door.
“Hello,” I said.
She just looked at me, “Who are you?”
I thought the woman was being a little rude, “Tom Grace. I’m here for the party?”
“Oh,” then she gave a such a sincere smile that I immediately knew her to be a kind person. “Come on in. I’m Carrie, Marshall’s wife.”
She ushered me in, closed and locked the door. I had a feeling she had worked in intelligence at some point.
“Sydney,” Carrie called into the back of the house. “Tom is here.”
Sydney came out. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
I tugged slightly at the nice shirt and slacks I was wearing, “I guess I overdressed.”
Sydney laughed, and Carrie did too, “Carrie and I have been decorating all day. We’re going to change for the party.”
“Plus,” Carrie added, “When you have kids as soon as you get dressed they are guaranteed to get stuff all over you.” To my questioning look, she answered, “I have a son, Mitchell, he’s three.”
“I’ll watch the kids if you guys want to get dressed.”
They agreed so I went into to living room. Ben was asleep on a blanket in a play pen, a small boy bearing a significant resemblance to his father was playing with a plane. I walked over.
“Hi, you’re Mitchell, right?”
The boy nodded, then asked, in the lilted, unsure way small children have of talking, “Are you Benny’s daddy?”
I was startled, “No. I’m a friend of his mom. Why do you ask?”
“Benny doesn’t have a Daddy like I do.’’
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Ben woke up and stretched his arms up, begging me to take him. I picked him up and swung him around. Ben giggled like a maniac.
The doorbell rang.
“Tom, can you get that?” Sydney called from her room.
Still carrying Ben I went to the door and opened it. Standing on the step was a tall, thin, blond man. He was slightly scruffy and had bags under his eyes. He looked surprised to see me.
“Are you here for the party?” I asked.
The man seemed unable to speak.
“Are you lost?” I asked the man, I shifted Ben to my hip so I could easily reach the gun I had stuck in the waistband of my pants.
“Sydney? Is she here?” The man finally asked.
“Who are you?”
“I-”
“Tom?” I heard Sydney’s voice as she came up behind the door. “Who’s here-”
Her voice trailed off and she stared at the man like she was seeing a ghost. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this man was the dead fiancée.
Then Sydney screamed, “Will!” and threw herself into the arms of the blond man, sobbing.